


Friends by accident

by TerresDeBrume



Series: AUs without a cause [7]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, France (Country), French Characters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a nice summer day, and Tony is out to enjoy it, the way he always does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends by accident

**Author's Note:**

> So this is for Artsies, who asked for French!Tony forever ago, and I finally managed to write something for it. I had trouble coming up with ideas, until I decided to just talk about what my life could have been had we not moved closer to Paris. There’s an explanation post coming up right next to this one, for cultural points etc. If you have any question regarding the story/habits/hints just ask and French!Tony will answer you! :)
> 
> It may sound redundant but this story does not reflect the entirety of French culture, only that of a very specific part of the French countryside.

The motorcycle screams in protest when Tony lands on the next bump, and he resolves to repair the suspensions as soon as possible. He sends a shower of dirt and small stones up the road, and he hears people yell at him as he drives off to the village that sits peacefully in front of them. He bypasses the former bed and breakfast and drives straight to the big bridge a few yards beyond that.

There’s an old building there where women used to do their laundry in, back when those things were done in the river, but today it’s nothing more than a shaded place where kids and teenagers come to hang out in.

 

“Pepper!” he yells as he rests his vehicle against the nearest wall, “Oh, Virginie! I’m here!”

 

He rounds the corner of the building, not bothering to protect or hide his ride –it’s the only one that’s red and golden for miles around, and anyone who tries to steal it would be caught before they reached their home anyway. The door is as rickety as ever, and the new lock the town office had installed last month is lying in the gravel, rotten wood a very poor obstacle for motivated kids in search of a semi-secluded make out spot.

Tony is about to take his helmet off and call for his friend again when he spots her gesturing at him from the river, barely two meters away.

 

“Where were you?”

 

He asks, because it’s not like she’s got a lot of hiding space here. The columns supporting the roof where a fourth wall should be can shield you from the road on the other side of the river, but not from someone coming from the bridge, or from the door.

 

“I was under the bridge,” Pepper answers, watching her footsteps so as not to fall in the cold water. “Trying to catch a frog but it got away.”

 

She tied her hair today, a nice French braid falling over her right shoulder in an artful mess of copper strands, and Tony can’t help but smile as he remembers how they were last summer, when he’d take the tie off the tresses and run his fingers through the locks. Pepper doesn’t look different from back then. She’s still wearing the same jean shorts -torn at the right buttock and fixed with a flower-shaped patch- the same white shirt over the same brown bikini.

Only the sandals changed, natural leather instead of white, but the freckles over the hand holding them are the same, and Pepper smiles when she notices him staring.

 

“Still a redhead,” she says.

“Still late,” he answers, and she snorts but still sits down to but her shoes back on.

 

Her legs are still wet from the river, but it doesn’t matter: they’ll dry off.

A minute later, she’s sitting behind Tony on his bike, riding back from where he came toward the next village over. Tony can feel his  _Trust_  T-shirt flap in the wind behind him as they go, beating against Pepper’s chest at every turn of the road. He turns left right before the bridge that gave its name to the pocket-sized town, and gravel starts flying again as he zooms past decades-old trees, noisy dogs and tongue-clicking walkers. He doesn’t mind. It’s always how it goes when they meet at the pond.

The village they left, isn’t really Pepper’s home. She only goes there during the weekends and half of the holidays, to see her father, waiting to be eighteen so she doesn’t have to anymore. The rest of the time, she lives in Chaumont, which is the first big-ish town in their neighborhood, and when she’s at her Dad’s, tony and the other members of their group make a point to kidnap her as often as possible, for as long as they can.

 

“Hey look,” Pepper says as she dismounts the motorbike, “Pilou’s here!”

“So’s Bucky,” Tony says.

 

Philippe Lefils and James ‘Jimmy’ Lagrange are friends they made in high school. They both live in Chaumont, and they’ve both graduated since, they’ve both enlisted –Pilou wants to be in the GIGN, Bucky is aiming for the Foreign Legion. In fact, Bucky got that nickname from the Army. Before that, they used to call him Jimmy, as is usual in France, but now Bucky’s starting to stick, and soon it’ll feel like they’ve never called him anything but that. Philippe, on the other hand, has always been Pilou, or Phil –Phil has been prevailing lately. He’s let go of the pranks so Pilou doesn’t quite fit anymore.

It’s become rare to see them at the same time, and Tony grins when Phil comes to greet him with a firm handshake and a hearty clap on the back.

 

“Still with the T-shirt dude?” Bucky snorts, “Man, loosen up, we’re not going to assault you if you take it off.”

“With dudes like you I’d rather not try my luck,” Tony answers, rolling his eyes, and he hears Pepper sigh behind him.

 

(Nobody quite knows why her mom has been calling her that from the moment she was born, but it’s a funny name and even the teachers use it over Virginie anyway, so they just go with the flow.)

 

“Seriously, bucky, we’ve told you to drop it a million times by now.”

“Make me,” Bucky retorts, and before Pepper has time to protest, he seizes her by the waist, runs to the edge of the water and throws her into the pond.

 

Tony can’t help but let out a laugh as she lands in the water with a heavy splash, but he makes sure Pepper re-emerges without problems. It’s thirty degrees Celsius in the shade today, and the water in the pond –an abandoned dam- rarely ever reaches sixteen degrees. They’re all jerks to each others sometimes, it’s true, but they never actually try to hurt anyone, and Tony can see that the whole group pauses until Pepper’s head pierces the water again.

 

“You tosser!” she yells from below them –not even a meter or so- and Bucky sticks his tongue out at her.

 

From the corner of his eyes, Tony can see Steve dripping his way across the grass and sneak behind Bucky. They exchange a look and in a matter of second, it’s Bucky’s turn to be up in their arms and yell as Steve, Phil and Tony throw him into the water. Tony is still laughing at his discomfited face, when Steve tackles him and he falls toward the pond.

The bottom is deepest where they land, and tony can feel the pressure build up above his head in addition to the shock of cold water. His back hits the mud and plants from the river, and he’s pretty sure a fish brushes up against his leg as he shoves at Steve’s chest with his foot, then kicks his way back to the top. When he reaches the surface, Tony’s hair is all over his face, carefully arranged mess chased away by the weight of water, and he makes a point to complain about at the top of his voice as he goes to stand under the waterfall.

Sitting is a more accurate description, actually, as the fall in itself is barely fifty centimeters high. It’s the water filtering through the old dam’s rotten wood, and its main interest lies in the smooth, algae-covered stone of about one meter square that lies below it. It’s a good place to sit and relax under the pressure of running water, rather than climb the boulders on the left, which are trickier to navigate, and tend to house vipers.

 

“Come to get a massage too, l’amerloque?”

“Shut up, Legolas.”

 

Clément laughs at Tony’s grunt, and he can’t really blame him –they’ve been trading that kind of insult ever since the beginning of their friendship two years ago, during their first year of high school. Still, the exchange stings, as it always does.  _Legolas_ , to be honest, is not intended as an insult. It’s not Tony’s fault if people understand it as a homophobic slur because the character wears thighs. He’s never used it in that way, only as a reference that Clint is a champion in archery, that’s all.

L’amerloque, however,  _is_  an insult, although based on nationality rather than sexuality. It’s kind of like the English ‘Yankees’ in its value, and it hurts. It hurts, because tony doesn’t feel American. He knows that’s where he was born, and he knows that’s how his parents feel, despite their obvious love for France and the Champagne region, but he doesn’t.

 

Tony has never known anything but France. He grew up here, was shaped by this country and it inhabitant. Tony lives, eats, drink, dreams French, and he can’t bring himself to stop caring when people imply that he’s not. He’s pretty sure he loves that country more than any of his friends does and, really, if any of them should be called American, that would be Steve because really, he’s the one who  _feels_  American. Steve has an American flag, he follows the baseball and American football leagues, and he never misses any of their national celebrations –not to mention he knows their national anthem by heart.

Tony, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the fourth of July –although that time he spent it in New York was fun- and he’d much rather watch the FIFA matches than the Superbowl. He could deal without the thanksgiving turkey, even if it’s delicious, but not having foie gras for Christmas would be a crime in his book. Yes, he rejoiced when Obama was elected, but then anybody with a grain of sense must have rejoiced that he won, right? Tony cares about the US, because it affects the whole world, but honestly, it’s only  _La Marseillaise_  that makes his heart swell.

 

Having people ignore or deny that is anything but pleasant to him, but hasn’t found the heart or words to explain that yet, and so he bites his retort off, as he does every time.

 

“I’m just here to hang out with Bruce,” Tony concludes, “he’s the only one worth getting sand and in my trunks for, anyway.”

“I’m flattered,” Bruce says with a smirk as Phil and Bucky join them –they probably look pathetic, shivering in the shadows when they could be drying off in the sunny patches on the bank, but they’ve always done that anyway. Plus, staying there gives them an occasion to go for their favorite conversation topic this year:

“So, Bucky… when’s Steve going to ask her out?”

 

Steve is currently talking with Pepper on the bank, setting up the picnic he brought from his house –he’s the closest to the pond from their group, having only a half hour walk between his house and their swimming spot, so he’s usually the one who takes care of the picnic, and they help him out in other ways in exchange. The two of them have grown pretty close during the past school year, which made everyone in the group happy, despite Tony’s misplaced envy at the beginning.

Things, however, stopped evolving between them a month ago or so, in that awkward phase of ‘I like you but I’m not sure how to tell you’, and now it’s sometimes painful to watch them flirt-without-flirting.

 

“Whenever he realizes going out with her isn’t insulting Peggy’s memory,” Bucky says.

“At this rate Pepper should ask  _him_  out,” Bruce remarks.

“Except she doesn’t want to go too fast and make things awkward,” Tony says. “So she’s stuck for waiting.”

 

It’s not that Tony doesn’t understand it. Steve’s girlfriend Peggy died during their first year of high school and that’s not something you get over easily. Tony remembers it as if it’d been yesterday –Peggy was from his village, he’d known her since preschool. The whole village came to her funerals, and family from two towns over, and there was a minute of silence at school the day after.

That’s how it works in small villages like that, everybody knows everybody and every death spurs conversation in the whole village. Tony’s neighbors are still mourning her, he knows, and her tomb is never bare, because there’s always someone to put flowers on it. It won’t last forever, of course, but Peggy’s death, from an insidious cancer, shocked them into emotion. For now, Peggy is still in their memories, and Tony knows that’s what impeding Steve and Pepper’s relationships.

 

“I thought Jeanne was supposed to join us?” Phil asks after a short silence, “She’s even later than Tony. Think her old man took the car after all?”

“Didn’t she say something about Selvig having nephews over or something?” Bruce butts in.

“Selvig’s the guy who works with her dad on the Northern Lights, right?” Clément asks. “The old man who flirted with the Debré widow?”

“Oh c’mon!” Tony protests along with Bruce and Phil, “Don’t bring that back up that was like, ages ago!”

“Ages ago my ass,” Clément retorts, “My grand lives next to the widow and she says she’s still pinning over him.”

“Shut up,” Tony says, “nobody cares that she’s pinning, it’s her right. Selvig’s not even that handsome. And ‘sides, I know for a fact that the old Mausser is trying to get her for himself.”

“Well look at that fiend,” Bruce smirks, “pretending he doesn’t care so he can bomb us with new gossip!”

 

Tony sticks his tongue out at his friend, and they both snigger like ten years old trading semi-hot magazines in the courtyard, while their friends splash them with ice-cold water. Steve is calling them now, waving his arm from the other side of the pond, and Tony manages to see Jeanne, Natasha and two taller silhouettes before Clément dumps him in the foamy waterfall and he ends up with algae all up his swim trunks.

 

“—from Iceland,” Jeanne is saying when Tony hoists himself up on the bank, hair and T-shirt dripping.

 

She’s speaking in English, which is unusual, but at least now knows that she has made tremendous progress as far as accent is concerned… at least it’s not as obvious that she’s French now.

 

“I met them last summer when I went up north with Dad, so I offered to be their guide around town this month.”

 

The guys she’s gesturing to are both freakishly tall, even taller than Steve is, and  _he_ ’s not a midget either –or well. Not anymore.

One of them is blonde, with biceps the size of a young tree. He’s got a smile on and a full beard that goes well with his hippie-like hair and his flannel shirt… Tony is reminded of that time he and Pepper sat down on the couch and watched the whole  _Crocodile Dundee_  saga –the blonde has a bigger built than the hero but they’re obviously the same kind of laid back dudes.

 

“This is Thor,” Jeanne says, pointing to the blonde, “and here’s his brother Loki.”

 

Loki is shorter than his brother –although seriously, he  _has_  to be adopted. His hair is black, his silhouette slimmer than his brother’s. He looks a lot less smiling too, closed off and distant with his arms crossed on his chest, but there is something in that attitude that draws Tony, something to do with the fact that Loki has kept his shirt –a long sleeved one- and they’re the only two to have done so.

 

“Do you come swimming here often?” Thor asks in accented English.

“Yeah,” Clément answers. “Your bro’s allowed to put himself at ease, y’know.”

“Loki does not like to take his shirt off in public,” Thor says.

“Loki can talk for himself,” the brunet answers, “And I care not for your opinion, I intend to keep my shirt on today.”

“Totally agreed,” Tony says. “I wouldn’t take off a Rolling Stones shirt either –live rock’n’roll and all that jazz.”

 

Tony sees Loki check him out, examine his red shorts and sodden sport shoes –Tony didn’t even realize he’d kept them on- and then his eyebrow rises.

 

“ _Trust_?” he asks.

“Yeah, I got it on a whim at a festival last year. I’ve got some of their songs on my phone, if you’re interested?”

“Alright,” Loki agrees.

 

In a matter of minute, they’re engrossed in a conversation about their favorite rock bands, swimming nearly forgotten, and Tony feels himself smile harder than he did for a long time. At some point, Bruce dumps some water on them and they splutter for a while, before ganging up on him and throwing him in the pond.

They fall in behind him, but when they come up, Tony sees that Loki is smiling too, and he laughs, not even mad about giving his shoes a second bath.

 

Apparently, he’s made a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Tips to understand French!Tony and his friends can be found [here](http://fanfanwrites.tumblr.com/tagged/Fic%3A-Avengers-in-France) :)


End file.
